


Sleeping is boring

by Strange_johnlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom John Watson, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, First Smut in ages, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Romance, Smut, Tender Sex, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Sherlock, Topping from the Bottom, so much love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 21:33:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18416270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strange_johnlock/pseuds/Strange_johnlock
Summary: “What exactly are you doing?” John sounds much more awake now. Good.“Initiating sexual contact, John, obviously.” He moves out from underneath John’s t-shirt to lie on top of him, chest to chest, nose to nose.“In the middle of the night?” John leans up for a kiss, and Sherlock could never say to no to that. Their lips meet, tasting of sleep, in a soft kiss, and for a while, that is all they need.





	Sleeping is boring

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my wonderful Amelia for dealing with my horrid grammar and spelling <3

John is beautiful in his sleep, Sherlock thinks. He is beautiful all the time if you ask Sherlock, but he has something peaceful when he dreams. Sherlock prides himself on the fact that John has not had a single nightmare since they started sharing a bed two months ago. He still sleeps too much though, Sherlock thinks.

Sleeping is boring, and Sherlock will prove that soon enough.

It’s almost five, so a very appropriate time to get up anyways, Sherlock lifts the duvet and crawls down John’s body, until he reaches the hem of his shirt. He carefully lifts it up to reveal the warm, soft skin he knows to be golden in daylight. He kisses his way up it and licks at the navel.

John smells amazing, like mint body wash, and musk, and home. He makes breathing not boring. No one has ever managed that before. Sherlock closes his eyes, which is pointless in the dark, to take him in, seeking the warmth of his skin.

John makes a sound, lifting his arm. “Sherlock?” he says, his voice tried, but he can hear the smile in it. John thinks Sherlock is being ridiculous with his head stuck between John and his shirt. He likes it when Sherlock is being ridiculous, he said so once when he was drunk.

“Hmm.” Sherlock kisses John’s belly.

“What exactly are you doing?” John sounds much more awake now. Good.

“Initiating sexual contact, John, obviously.” He moves out from underneath John’s t-shirt to lie on top of him, chest to chest, nose to nose.  

“In the middle of the night?” John leans up for a kiss, and Sherlock could never say to no to that. Their lips meet, tasting of sleep, in a soft kiss, and for a while, that is all they need.

“You said something about sexual intercourse.” John murmurs, when they part, and Sherlock can see the sparkle in his eyes.

“Hmm, yes.” Sherlock smears his mouth over John’s cheek, down to his neck, where he sucks on his collar bone. He feels John move, reaching for his bedside drawer.

“Well then, Mr. Holmes. As the initiator, you get to do all the work. I’m still half asleep.” John smirks, placing a bottle of lube in his hand. It’s a lie, Sherlock knows. As a doctor, and a soldier, John only needs a minute or two to be fully awake, but he is more than fine with John laying back and enjoying himself.

“Very well, Captain Watson. If you’d be so kind to take your shirt off.” Sherlock teases, sitting up and on John’s hips. John complies and Sherlock follows his example, throwing the t-shirt he has nicked from John years ago off the bed. “Now, lay back, relax, and enjoy the flight.”

He leans down for a kiss, which doesn’t really happen, because John is giggling, and Sherlock just must join in. Their laughter, Sherlock thinks, sounds brilliant together, he has failed many times to replicate something as beautiful on his violin.

“This was supposed to be lazy morning sex.” Sherlock mock complains, lips resting against John’s chin.

“Doesn’t always go as planned.” John teases back. “I’m wide awake, now.”

“I can make you shut up.” Sherlock promises, with a smile.

“Oh, really? You seem to very confid… Oh.” John gets interrupted by Sherlock’s hand cupping his cock through his pyjama bottoms.

“Really.” Sherlock promises, making his voice go as deep as he can. John likes that. He is intent on keeping his promise.

“Kiss first,” John cups his face to pull him close, and Sherlock starts to rock their bodies together as they kiss, and kiss, and kiss and Sherlock forgets about his plans for a while. He just is here in bed with the man he has loved for years and can never imagine not loving. He has never done anything as intensely, as all-consuming as loving John Watson. He hopes he is good at it, good at being a friend, a partner, a lover. He knows John is, with all his flaws, he is the best possible boyfriend to Sherlock.

As their mouths and tongues move against each other, the atmosphere shifts form teasing banter to something calmer, deeper. John, genius that he is, finds the best words to convey just that.

“Love you.” He whispers, and Sherlock hides his face against his neck in a surge of emotion. The words are new, still, only having been said out loud three times so far, but always felt. John moves underneath him, nose in Sherlock’s hair.

“Should I take over?” He asks, voice soft. Sherlock shakes his head. “No, I want to do this for you.” He says quietly. It takes a moment, before he can move, but when he does, he can’t stop himself. John’s skin is addictive as he kisses and licks and bites it aimlessly. He returns to John’s mouth over and over again, as if he is dependent on the touch before he finally pulls John’s pants pyjama bottoms down. In the semi darkness of the room, he can see the shimmer of precum on the head of John’s cock, and he licks it away, pulling an almost shout from his lover’s throat. “Sherlock!”

Sherlock can hear the plead in it and eagerly gets to work. Tongue pressed against the underside of the shaft, he moves his head in a slow, shallow rhythm that makes John squirm and moan prettily. He focuses his attention on the head, not taking him in too deep just yet. Sometimes, when oral sex is the only point on their agenda, he takes his time, starting slow and taking in every inch of skin, but today, this is just the prelude to the main event. This doesn’t mean John should enjoy it less.

And Sherlock enjoys it just as much as John does. He loves the feeling, the taste of him in his mouth, loves the sounds and the way John is forcing himself not to thrust up. Wrapping a hand around the base, the other scrambles to find the bottle of lube, which got lost on the bed as they kissed. He manages to get it open without having to interrupt the cock sucking and takes his time to warm some up between two fingers.

“God, yes please.” He hears John moan at the click of the bottle cap, proving to Sherlock that he is on the right path. It’s a privilege, Sherlock thinks, that they can understand each other like this even after all they have done to each other and the pain they have both caused. They have gained their trust back so they can be together like this, and maybe being together, being intimate, helped them in gaining it back. It helped them heal, so they can now move past the pain and share their life with one another. “Please, Sherlock. I need…you.”

Sherlock’s cock, neglected until now, throbs at the words, as does his love-filled heart. It always surprises him, shocks him, startles him, when John ‘not gay’ Watson begs him to be fucked. He has to kiss him.

Their kiss is desperate, but loving, and Sherlock carefully touches his fingers to John’s hole, arms wrapped around John’s back and bum to reach it. They both moan, cocks slotting together between them.

“Have I shut you up, yet?” Sherlock whispers, to break the tension, as he presses inside. He knows, it is too intense, sometimes, being penetrated, and John’s jokes always help him, when he is bottoming.

“Not quite yet, you’ll have to try harder.” John opens his eyes, to grin up at him. “But you’re on the right path, I think.”

“You mean, this path?” Sherlock’s finger trails up John’s perineum, before slipping in again, seeking the warm tightness of John’s body. It’s a more difficult angle, having his arm around John and preparing him from behind as they face each other, but Sherlock manages.

“Hmm, yeah. That. You can… I can take one more.” John tilts his hips up in an attempt to hurry the process and Sherlock complies, pulling more moans from his boyfriend’s throat. John turns his head, biting his lip, and giving Sherlock access to his neck. He takes full advantage.

It gets more difficult to adequately prepare John, and Sherlock pulls his fingers out for a moment. He shifts to sit between his legs adding more lube, before returning to his work. Sherlock himself can get very impatient when John takes his time or is being extra careful, and they are both desperate for it by now. He moves his fingers faster being efficient, but still careful. His mouth is back on John’s cock to distract him from the burn of the stretch. He teases the frenulum with his tongue, licks down to his scrotum, where he remains for a while, as his fingers pump into John faster.

“I’m ready, Sherlock. Please.” John’s hand finds his hair, and he softly pulls. It’s Sherlock’s time to moan. “Impatient.” He smiles, but follows John’s request. He has teased long enough.

“On your side, John, please.” He taps at his hip and John turns. Sherlock slots himself around his back, his right arm supporting Johns head. “Okay?” he asks, as he takes his own cock in hand.

John nods emphatically. “God, yes.” He reaches out for the lube and Sherlock takes it. “More than okay. Rather desperate for it, actually.”

“And still not shutting up.” Sherlock presses kisses to John’s shoulder, and the scar there. He can feel John’s body vibrate with laughter as the shorter man takes the bottle back. His hand, his perfect surgeons hand, grabs Sherlock’s cock to lube it up.

“Get on with it.” John says, mirroring Sherlock’s so often used words back at him. Then, for a while, he says nothing more, as Sherlock slowly pushes in.

John lifts his arm to bury his fingers into Sherlock’s hair. He is in slight pain, Sherlock can sense that, and he tries to distract him with kisses to his neck and shoulder. Moving his right arm, his hand rests on John’s chest, just above his heart. It’s where he usually places his head as they sleep, instantly calmed by the sound of John’s heartbeat. He feels it now, against his fingers, fast and steady.

“You can move.” John says, knowing that Sherlock is still worried about hurting him. “I’d like you to move.”

Sherlock does. He tilts his hips, to find the right angle, then pulls back to push back in. The first few thrusts are deliberate, then his body takes over, his brain flooded with lust. He drives in faster, more desperate; his mouth having fallen open against John’s neck. John is warm, and tight around him, and it is difficult to grasp how much John must trust him to let him do this.

I love you. That’s what he wants to say with every movement of his hips, his lips and his fingers on John’s cock.

I love you, and I think you are the most amazing human being.

I love you, and I want to be as close to you as I can possibly be.

I love you, and I don’t want you to sleep, because I miss you when you do. Sleeping is boring. You are brilliant.

John’s hand finds his on his chest and squeezes his fingers. And that means I love you, too, Sherlock knows.

It’s over quickly, then. They rock together, Sherlock slotting a leg between John’s so he can move faster, as his orgasm approaches. “Close.” He whispers, and John nods, grabbing Sherlock’s bum to pull him deeper. He holds back, until the moment John comes into his hand and around Sherlock’s cock, not a second longer. His eyes fall close and he tenses, not moving for a moment as he orgasms, holding John tight against his chest.

“John.” Is all he can say.

  
  


They lie still for a minute or two, before Sherlock carefully pulls out. John turns, so they can kiss, slowly, lovingly.

“Have I shut you up, yet? Are you glad I woke you up, now?” Sherlock wants to tease, but he keeps quiet. This is not the moment for their usual banter, it’s special, tender. “I love you.” He says instead.

John’s smile is everything, honest, and open. “I love you, too. That was quite amazing.” His perfect, small hands trace Sherlock’s eyebrow, then down his nose and over his lips, swollen red from kissing. “You’re amazing. I knew that from day one.”

Sherlock blushes, like he did on day one, but there is no need to hide that anymore.

“How about I’ll get us a flannel, and then you can tell me how amazing I am until Rosie wakes up?” He is already out of bed, when John answers. “Sounds brilliant.” John smiles and pinches his bum. Sherlock squeals in surprise, and throws a pillow at him before escaping to the bathroom. He turns on the light, his eyes finding his reflection in the mirror. His face is flushed red, his hair in disarray. He has rarely seen himself this happy, and when he has John has always been the cause. 

* * *

 

John is fast asleep.

“Menace.” Sherlock whispers, throwing the towel back in the direction of the sink. He sits down on the edge of the mattress, tenderly combing his fingers through John’s hair.

He looks beautiful in his sleep. Smiling slightly, he looks sated, happy, and Sherlock misses him just a little bit.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Toplock, Bottomlock, who cares? As long as there is fucking :)  
> In my focus on parentlock, I have not written smut in so long. I hope I managed alright :)


End file.
